


À Ceux Qui Méritaient Mieux

by AQuietThinker



Category: Royal Tenenbaums (2001)
Genre: Cigarettes, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Canon, Recovery, Rehab, Sibling Bonding, wes anderson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AQuietThinker/pseuds/AQuietThinker
Summary: “Why are we like this?” she whispers,  She doesn't move, afraid that any motion will break apart again.“I don’t know.”Chas wipes his nose with his sleeve.“I think…” Richie hesitates, but his siblings eyes are stuck on him. “...I think we only accept the love we think we deserve.”
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	À Ceux Qui Méritaient Mieux

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone's ready my profile, you must know I'm a huge Wes Anderson fan, and feel that we need more fan fiction about it. I began this a few months ago and decided to continue. Enjoy
> 
> Oh and the title stands for To Those Who Deserved Better  
> x)

“Will you stay home?

He knew Mother was dying to ask the question since Chas went back to his apartment and Margot began renting a nearby studio, leaving him alone in the large family home with only Etheline and Henry.

“Can I stay?” he asks.

“As long as you wish to.” Henry replies, and there’s pride in his eyes.

The same evening Ritchie moves the tent to his bedroom, sets it up exactly as it was in the living room. He plays Rolling Stones records till three am. It feels safe in here, and though he can still feel his mother’s guilt, he knows he can stay for ages.

**\- - - - - - - - - -**

He and Chas go to North Dakota together a month after he’s settle back in his room. Partially to see Eli, partially to get Chas away from his children. Therapist's recommendation. 

In the flight between New York and Wisconsin Chas has a panic attack and breaks two fingers after clutching a glass too tightly. Richie had never seen his brother so agitated, and they take the rest of the trip by train. He does not mention the incident to him again.

“What if there’s a fire?”

“Everything will be just fine.”

“You can’t know that. What if they get hurt?” Chaz turns back to the exit of the train station.

“They are safe with Mother.”

“But what if-”

Richie holds his shoulder and Chas turns down and squeezes his wrist. The man cries out in pain from the still healing scars and the worry on Chas’s face tightens more. He doesn't apologise.

“Mom always took care of us, didn't she?” Richie barks out, loud enough for a few people to turn and watch them.

Chaz says nothing. He can’t argue against a fact, so he just follows his brother to the train and swallows a knot of regret.

\- - - - - - - - - -

North Dakota is peaceful. The facility gives out an air of abandonment, but the inspiring peaceful kind of feeling. For a moment Richie wishes he could stay here with Chas longer than forty-eight hours.

For the first time in the trip, as the three of them sit in plastic chairs admiring the view, Chaz seems to have forgotten his twins.

“I like it here. Nobody judges you for your past, just help you out with the present.” Eli says.

His childhood friend looks different as well. His hair is shorter, chin clean and eyebags smaller than usual.

“I want to write another novel.” Eli mutters.

“What about?”

Eli shrugs, watching as Chas stays quiet. “The story of three brothers who just lost their fathers. One is running away from parenthood, another from a girl that broke his heart. The last one tries to reunite them all together.”

“Why does he do that?” asks Richie.

“He just tried to commit suicide and realizes he doesn't want his brothers to hate him in death.”

He hums in acknowledgment. “What about your Westerners?”

“Those are pure shit.” he mutters. “I want to write something meaningful.”

“They weren’t?”

The blonde frowns. “You know what I mean, Richie.”

Chas is still silent. When they stand up to go inside, Eli leans to tap the man on the shoulder, and notices that he’s crying noiselessly. Richie wants to say something meaningful but his mind is blank, and they both retreat back inside without a word.

When Chas is curled up in the guest bedroom, Eli somberly talks to him outside.

“What’s up with him?”

“He misses his wife.”

Eli scoffs. “I know that, Richie. Did something happen on the way here?”

“D’you know how his wife died?”

He shakes his head.

“Plane crash. D’you know how we got here?” he sighs. “We flew halfway.”

“Shit.”

“I should have known.” Richie mutters angrily, mostly to himself. “I knew how Rachel died and yet I made him get in a plane. He had some sort of panic attack and broke his fingers. Wouldn't stop shaking. I didn’t know what to do.”

Eli hums and nods, stealing a glance at the halfway opened door. “Its alright to make mistakes.”

“Not of that severity.”

“Fine.” says Eli. “Maybe it wasn't a mistake. He had to face the flight sooner or later.”

“Not that way”

“You tried to kill yourself to face your feelings for Margot. Was that a mistake?” he asks.

Richie frowns and snaps. “We weren't talking about that.”

“ _Was_ it a mistake, Richie?”

The man takes off his sunglasses and reaches out for the window of the hall. Inside the room, Chas shifts in his sleep and Eli becomes the wisest person in the room.

“I don’t know.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

They go back home on train, the bus, then train again with a final taxi cab. Chas smiles at Eli and begins entering the compartment, but as he turns to follow, Eli stops him.

“I promise I’ll stop completely if you burn that suicide note.”

“How did you know I kept it?” he asks.

Eli patts his breast pocket where the paper burns a hole into his chest.

“Deal?”

“Fine. But when you come home we’re burning those porno tapes of your home.”

Eli scruggs. “I’m also selling the apartment. Pretty wretched paintings.”

“Where will you live?” he asks.

“Dunno. Maybe I’ll crash your tent.”

Richie laughs lightly, pulling the man to an embrace. Eli tenses at first but then wraps his arms around his torso and refuses to let go.

“I’m glad we’re still friends.”

“Me too, Eli.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

Eli receives the same rose invitations the other Tenenbaums children get for a Thanksgiving dinner. It's the first time in nearly fifteen years that they gather around for a meal.

Margot finds herself enjoying the reunion for the first time. 

Raleigh and Dudley are invited, and nobody questions the decision. Even after the divorce, they share a much more animated friendship.

_“I just… this isn't your fault Raleigh. You just met the wrong woman”_

_They were in an ice cream parlour next to the divorce attorney’s office._

_He smiled, taking her hand and wiping off some mint ice cream. “I don't think so. We just work better as friends.” he hesitated. “Can we be friends?”_

_“I think so.”_

_She was surprised by his lack of emotions and quick signing of the papers._

_“Just one last question, before we forget about this…” he says. “Did you ever love me?”_

_She frowns. “In my odd weird way. It's never enough for people.”_

_The ice cream in her cups is completely melted by now. “You’ll find someone, Raleigh. A good, pretty woman that deserves you.”_

_“You’re beautiful too, Margot.”_

_She sighs. “Not really. Don’t try to change my opinion.”_

They talk together for a long hour of the evening. Raleigh explains her questions about Dudley’s World and she tells him about the twelve unwritten ideas for her next plays. She talks about her new cat, Zissou, and how he broke the ink roll of her typewriter.

“How are you, really?” he questions.

“I don’t know. Better, I guess. I like my studio, I like my cat. I met a girl in a community writing class that thinks I’m funny. Her name is Susan.”

Margot doesn't know why exactly she said that to her ex-husband, but it feels good to have a friend. Raleigh smiles before Dudley begins pulling him away in complains of an itchy left ear.

“Ice cream parlour on Tuesday?” he asks.

“I’ll be there.”

She’s happy that their romantic relationship ended in good terms, and retreats to the kitchen to help mother hide the whiskey from Chas.

\- - - - - - - - - -

“You’re part of the promise, man.” Eli tells him as Mother cleans the dishes, and Richie quietly nods and follows the blonde outside.

The streets are empty except for a few stray cats. He fishes the paper from his pocket and hands it to Eli, who shakes his head.

“Keep it.”

“Why?”

“It’s your suicide note. Yours to burn.”

He bites back an angry retort. In consideration, destroying the stacks of pornography from Eli’s flat took longer than the letter, but it weighs down on him like a bomb. He obviously couldn’t refuse a man who had better self-preservation values.

“Fine.”

Ritchie holds the yellowish paper as Eli lights it aflame. It slowly disintegrates, and the flame nearly reaches his fingers before he lets it flutter to the ground. Eli tosses the lighter on the floor, quickly places a hand on his shoulder, and goes back inside. Ritchie’s eyes stayed glued on the small pile of ashes, and can’t shake off the feeling that something is wrong.

Back in his tent, he sits criss crossed on the cot and takes a ballpoint pen he was once gifted for a funeral.

Ritchie re-writes the note word by word, stares at the blue penmanship for minutes before tearing it to pieces and starting again. By the fifth try he is satisfied, folds it tightly and stores it in his pocket.

Mordecai is grooming himself and pays him no attention when he gets to the roof. He scratches the bird’s beak, but the animal doesn’t bite his finger. Then he proceeds to extract the fake brick and place the folded letter atop of the German pack of cigarettes. 

Margot has her secrets. So does he.

Someone calls him to dinner with a flat voice and Ritchie spares no last glance to the bricks before leaving the roof.

\- - - - - - - - - -

“It was nice for you to invite me, Mrs. Sherman.”

She smiles with motherly charm and takes his hand. “You’re welcome anytime, Eli.”

Something stirs in his chest. “Thank you.”

  
  


\- - - - - - - - - -

Chas gets drunk after dinner. 

Not the flirty what’s-my-name kind of drunk-ness he met his wife with, but a depressive state of numbness. All he is missing is a Polaroid picture of Rachel and a clock to tell him the time in order to wake the twins for school.

Royal took the children out to the annual firework show in the park three blocks away, followed by Margot. She says nothing, just rips off the nicotine patches from her arm and carries Uzi on her shoulders. Mother and her husband are cleaning up, a seemingly nonchalant Ritchie retreats to his room. No one will bother him.

Chas never gets drunk in front of his children. However, when he (rarely) has the night for himself and a bottle sour whiskey, there’s nothing to stop him. His first taste of alcohol was a better version of Porto liquor at a stock conference when he was eleven. By now he realizes that whiskey does the trick quicker. 

Rachel would never forgive him for killing his neurons with alcohol in such ways, but the dead don’t argue back when talked to.

He takes the roof of all places and downs half of the bottle in a swing. It burns his throat. With a blank expression he swings his arm and punches the bricks with the square bottle. Glass explodes like the fireworks faraway and embeds in his knuckles.

A dusty brick falls down along with the hidden pack of German cigarettes and a tightly folded letter. It takes him sometime to run his hands through the dusty remains of the wall.

Chas unfolds the paper and stains the paper red. He curses to himself before settling back down on the concrete.

He reads it and weeps.

\- - - - - - - - - -

“Chas?”

His brother is clutching a crumpled letter and is ugly sobbing on the ground. His hand is bleeding on the floor, and he looks pathetically vulnerable.

“You- you, felt, why would you?” Chas’s words make no grammatical sense.

Richie sits on the cleaner ground and leans against Chas. He knows what his brother want to ask, but refuses to say anything. 

“I’m a monster.” Chas says, and wipes his nose with the edge of the black sleeve. He’s not wearing the usual red attire, but a blazer.

“So am I.” Richie replies.

“Are you… are you going to try again?” Chas stares with glassy eyes at Richie.

“No. Never.”

For the first time, his answer is genuine. He usually just ignored people or lied to himself, but seeing Chas in this state, worse than the plane, in a void of self-guilt and misery, he knows he will never go against his life.

“I’m sorry for trying.”

“I’m sorry too.”

Chas leans his head against his shoulder and simply stares at the night sky. the rooftop still smells of german cigarettes and bird droppings, but neither move for a long time.

“I love you, Richie. You know that?”

“I know, Chas.” he says, crumpling the blood-stained paper even more. “Just promise me you’ll actually try to get better.”

Chas hiccups. “I promise.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

“Chassie?”

“Yes, mum?”

“What happened to your hand?”

He looks at his hand, wrapped up in white gauze. “I lost my temper at myself.”

“Oh.” Etheline cups his face. “Are you alright?”

He regards her sadly but offers a small smile. “Not yet. One day, maybe.”

\- - - - - - - - - -

“Do you want to go to the cinema?”

Margot is wearing one of Etheliene’s coats when she interrupts the silence in the living room. Chas looks up from his book next to Richie, looking as surprised as his brother.

“Why?” 

Uzi and Ari are having hotdogs with Royal in the park, and the house is nearly empty of people. She sits in the couch opposite to them.

“Bonding time.”

“Alright.”

The three of them walk quietly through the streets with nothing in particular to think about, just the breeze and occasional car. Margot likes the silence. Something she’d learn after dozens of relationships was the constantly speaking isn't necessarily communicating, and she was thankful that neither sibling wanted to fill the silence.

The film they watched was old and boring, but Richie laughed at the cheesy romance and Chas was smiling when they left with an extra bag of unpaid popcorn.

“How long ago did we last spend time together like this?” Richie asks.

“Margot’s play.”

“Really?” says Margot, and suddenly she’s feeling lonely again. “We never even played on a park?”

“We were already grown when Mum let us go to the park.”

Chaz sighed, throwing away the yellow striped container. “Maybe we grew up too fast.”

Maybe we did, she thinks, and grabs both their hands with buttery fingers. They don’t pull away, and Richie leads them through the longest street back home.

They agree to meet like this once a week, whether it's to watch a film or go to the park. Richie likes the swingsets best, Margot like the cinema better. Chas still looks weary, but internally enjoys each trip.

For the first time in year, they are siblings.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Eli moved in to Chas’s old room after being discharged. Etheline kindly re-modeled the bedroom for him into a cozier atmosphere, and they throw away most of his flat’s furniture. He misses the spectacular natural views of North Dakota, but this feels like home.

He gets a job in the publisher that once was a funeral home before it burned down two blocks away, and spends the weekend typing the book nobody would read until three years later. 

Etheline loved having Eli. Henry likes him as well, and Richie enjoys their late night encounters.

One night Henry and Etheline are out for dinner, and Eli comes into the tent without his typewriter and looking paler than the moon.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Do you have a cigarette?”

“No.”

Eli curls up on his side underneath the cot and refuses silently to leave. Richie places a record on his blue device and lowers the volume. They co-exist as such for an hour until Eli speaks.

“Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember that time you and Margot went to the museum and you won't let me come? The one time you tried to runaway?”

“It wasn't a proper escape.” he replies simply. “But what about it?”

“Don’t you ever want to runaway like that?”

He does. 

Richie stares at the pale yellow of the tent’s ceiling, folding his hand behind his head. He can hear Eli’s breathing underneath him, hear the ticking of a tennis themed clock outside, smell the city fumes from the open window.

“Sometimes. Not always.”

“Oh.”

Richie remembers that night well. It was the first time he realized he liked Margot more than other. He might have not been as intellectual as Chas, but he could tell it was not completely inappropriate but also not unnatural.

He remembered how the tight compartment they slept at smelled of rat poison and chemical stuffing, how she read with a tiny light and he just stared at the close wooden ceiling.

_“I’m going to go look for my real family, Richie.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Why not? I want to know why they gave me away.”_

_“They’re stupid enough for doing that, Margot. Stay here.”_

_“I can’t.”_

_“Fine.”_

_“Will you keep it secret? For me?”_

_“Always.”_

She had kissed his cheek and gone to sleep while he laid wide eye. His cheek burned where her lips had met skin and his mind was racing.

“Eli?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you want to be a Tenenbaums?” he asks.

Eli huffs out and crawls to the open, sitting next to the record player. “I dunno. I always wanted siblings, I guess.”

“Oh.” he pauses, unsure of his next question. “If you don’t mind me asking… why did you go into drugs? All that shit for what?”

Eli fiddles with a toy car before answering. “I supposed I thought I deserved it.”

Richie leaned on his side, getting full view of his friend’s tiered figure. 

“Well, you deserve more than that.”

“So do you.”

Their eyes meet and Eli twitches a half-smile. “I guess we both deserved better.”

He sighs, remembering Margot’s kiss. “I guess we did.

\- - - - - - - - - -

Christmas dinner was held in the backyard instead, for a change. When Henry’s wine tips for the third time and Chas returns from tucking the twins to bed, Margot stands up.

“I started smoking when I was twelve.” she negins. “I’m openly bisexual to everyone but this family, and I always secretly liked being adopted because it meant I could someday marry Richie.”

Everyone is silent. The purple wine spread through the white mantel but nobody notices.

“I still love Richie, and don’t know how to feel about it. I have three tattoos, two on my back and one on my hip, and I always wanted to be a redhead. I don't hate anyone in this place but myself, and it isn't anyone's fault.”

She sits down and sticks a whole coconut sweet in her mouth. Etheline looks shocked but doesn't say anything, and in the static silence Chas stands up as well.

“I… It’s my fault Rachel died. I should have checked the gas levels and everything else but…” he sits down and covers a his eyes with a hand but keeps talking. “I’m still trying to move forward.”

Royal places a hand on his shoulder.

“I tried to kill myself.” says Richie, and stops to scan everybody’s eyes. “It was instant and… I’m not going to do it again. But It happened, and I want everyone to freely talk about it. It happened.”

Etheline voice quivers. “Anything else?”

Royal looks around before replying. “Pagoda and I got promotes at the hotel.”

Henry opens his mouth but is interrupted when Eli stands up and leaves for the kitchen. No one says anything when Margot gets up to follow. The wine starts dripping on the grass.

“Eli?”

He’s washing a sticky pot, and she notices the band around his wrist from rehab. He sighs softly, not meeting her gaze. 

“I shouldn't be part of this conversation, Margot. It’s family-”

“But you are family, aren’t you?” Margot says, worried.

Something shines in Eli’s eyes, and he relaxes. He leaves the pot on the kitchen isle and takes Margot’s outstretched hand back to the dinner table.

\- - - - - - - - - -

After dinner Margot and Chas diseaper to the roof. Etheline and Eli pick up everything while Henry bids goodbye to the others. Royal retreats to the living room to teach an awoken Uzi and Ari how to play poker. Richie sighs, slightly disturbed by the disappearance of the weight in his chest.

When he begins collecting the wine glasses from the mantel, his mother stops him.

“Mom-”

“Go with them.” she nudges him towards the staircase and continues quietly with her job.

Margot is sitting against Mordecai’s small shed while Chas is standing, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“Hey.” he says, sitting besides Margot. “Why’d you do that?”

“I’m not sure.” she replies. “Thought it was necessary.”

Chas tiredly sits and rests his head on the fur of Margot’s shoulder. The moon above them is symmetrically aligned in a way that makes her satisfied, but the clouds stop any star from glowing.

Margot lights a cigarette nonchalantly and they don’t stop her. Richie winds an arm around her waist, fingertips touching Chas’s shoulder.

Without a word, she gives Richie the cancer stick and he inhales quickly before passing it to Chas. The overprotective, sickness-phobic person ignores everything and takes a deep, long puff. He coughs but recomposes, never leaving Margot’s shoulder.

“Why are we like this?” she whispers, feeling a lump in her throat. She doesn't move, afraid that any motion will have Richie stop holding her waist and Chas stop leaning his head, and everything will break apart again.

“I don’t know.”

Chas wipes his nose with his sleeve.

“I think…” Richie hesitates, but his siblings eyes are stuck on him. “...I think we only accept the love we think we deserve.”

Margot nodes, but Chas just stares at the ground. “Will that be forever.?”

“Doesn’t have to be.” he mutters. “Anyone can get better.”

“Let’s make an agreement, then.” says Margot.

She stubs out the cigarette on the floor and takes their hand. “Let’s trust each other, for real this time.”

“Okay.”

“Fine.”

The three of them smile in unison in the darkness. Mordecai schrees from behind them and starts flying. It's the first time he leave on his own.

The stars still don’t shine, but Richie doesn't mind. He’s happy, in this small instant of his life. And happy is just enough.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh my favourite dysfunctional family. I hope you guys like it even if I know this won't get many views. One of Richie's last quotes comes from the perks of being a Wallflower.
> 
> Stay safe everyone!


End file.
